Our elders told me that we only kill them with spears. The strange people. The other people. This was never a suggestion but a rule: no arrows, no knives, only spears. It was said by my people that the others came from the gods, but not the good gods. Not the gods that helped us sleep at night, but the gods that stole our dreams and left us in the dark with only dark thoughts. The gods that made our children sick and our elders die. The gods that made the deer and the rabbits vanish in the cold winter when food was scarce. I have seen the others! Driven by hunger, they came at night to steal our young. Their wool-covered faces and black eyes reminded me of the wolves that attacked us when we walked unprotected in the forest. The others look like us, although they are much bigger and much stronger.
Our elders told me that we only kill them with spears, because their flesh is like the hide of a buffalo and they feel no pain. My mother told me to hide when they arrived. I didn’t hide, the curiosity was too strong. I needed to know what they looked like. I watched the great warriors rush in with spears raised. They stabbed the others over and over, but it didn’t stop them. I watched as the others chewed on the great warriors’ hands and feet. I heard the crunching of bone. My mother grabbed at my hair and pushed me to run. She told me to go to the place where the mountain tickled the sky and hide under the big rocks. I have seen the sun rise and set three times. No one from my village has come. My stomach aches from hunger. I drink dew from the fog collecting on the rocks. I can hear footsteps climbing up the steep slope, not toward me but near me. Strange grunting noises occasionally echo from the ridge.
Our elders told me we only kill them with spears, but I have no spear. The only weapons I possess are silence and time. My mother must be out there waiting for the right moment to come get me. Maybe she has spears. Maybe we can kill them, I do not know. A spiny lizard has made his way into my hiding spot, he is also hiding from them. My friend gave me an idea, he eats the insects and I will too. The footsteps are very near now. I am afraid.
Our elders told me we only kill them with spears. I wish more than anything I had a spear. They will find me soon and consume my flesh like they did to my mother. I remain silent, hoping they will leave. A face peered into my shelter. My hand grabbed the biggest rock it could find.
But that was when I was young. I am an elder now and withered. Time has worn on without a care. We only kill them with rocks or spears, I tell the children.
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